


The Friendship Committee

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Cheesecake, Fluff, Food, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: Matsumoto Jun is a frequent participant in cooking contests at his workplace, but he feels that his contributions are underappreciated. He supposes this is all Sakurai Sho's fault.
Relationships: Matsumoto Jun/Sakurai Sho
Comments: 23
Kudos: 95
Collections: Hi-ho! I'm your aibou!





	The Friendship Committee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Outdoorsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outdoorsy/gifts).



> I took the Sho x Food prompt and boy did I run with it.
> 
> It might be 'enemies to lovers' in Jun's head, but I don't think it counts ;)
> 
> This turned out very silly, but I hope you'll enjoy!

“Oi,” Nino chided, elbowing him as the room burst into applause. “Fix your face.”

Jun had tried for a neutral expression, clapping politely, but Nino at least could tell he wasn’t sincere. He watched with a mixture of envy and rage as Oshima from the sales team covered her mouth in surprise. Her colleagues gave her a push forward so that smug jerk could shake her hand, pass her the cheap little trophy.

Said smug jerk, Sakurai Sho from the legal department, raised a hand for quiet so he could speak. He just loved to hear himself talk, Jun was certain of it. “Congratulations Oshima-san! You’re sure you don’t run a restaurant in your spare time?” Sakurai paused for and received the friendly chuckles he was waiting for. “Thanks again to all of our participants! Our Curry Championship would not have been possible without all your hard work. Everything tasted delicious, I’m sorry we could only pick one winner!”

“Don’t roll your eyes!” Nino hissed beside him, and this time it was Jun’s elbow that lashed out. “Ow! Sore loser!”

“On behalf of the Friendship Committee, I want to thank each and every one of you for coming today. Even if you were just here for the free food like me.” More polite chuckles. Sakurai beamed that bright, cheerful smile all around the room, looking more like a candidate for political office than the head of a corny work committee focused on keeping morale high. “We’ll have an announcement about our next event soon, so keep an eye on your email! Now! There’s plenty of curry left to go around so get some second and third helpings or get the recipes from our participants. Have a great rest of your day!”

Jun slunk across the room to his lonely pot, balanced precariously on the catering rack above the tiny burner that was keeping its contents warm. He gave it a stir, watching hopelessly as nobody came over for seconds or thirds of his recipe. Some people hadn’t even come over for firsts. Most of the people sticking around instead of heading back to work were crowded around the winner, Oshima. A few were chatting with the other curry participant at his particular table, Nino’s buddy Aiba from marketing. The guy always made weird shit for Friendship Committee contests, so people were usually curious about what he’d managed to throw together.

Today’s Aiba Masaki special was a mabo tofu curry. Jun had had some, if only because they were competing at the same table. It was way too spicy. And Aiba had politely tried Jun’s contest contribution, a “Healthy Curry” he’d made without using any oil. “It’s good!” Aiba had declared. Mr. Friendship Committee Chief Douche Sakurai had said so too when he’d come by during the judging. And yet here Jun was, stirring the curry he’d made with so much love and effort, and he was going to have to take most of it home. He’d be eating his Healthy Curry for the next ten lunches. He could probably freeze it for another time, but then he’d just open his freezer at home and see his failure mocking him for weeks. 

He’d spent…well, he didn’t want to admit to anyone how much money he’d shelled out at the specialty spice shop in Jiyugaoka. He didn’t want to admit to anyone that he’d spent nearly an hour with the shop owner, perfecting the blend of spices that he’d bought. It wasn’t worth participating in a contest if you didn’t come to win. But because he worked in a office full of people with boring tastes, he still hadn’t won a damn thing, no matter how many contests he joined. 

Today he was fairly certain that Oshima-san’s curry roux had been a store-bought brand. The flavor had been too familiar, but the fools here seemed to think it was revolutionary, passing over Jun’s hard work and originality in favor of a dirty cheater. And this wasn’t the first time his outside-the-box efforts had lost to the bland offerings of his colleagues. So really, none of this was his fault.

But still. He hated to lose. 

Jun had been on the client management team at Reborn Medical for almost ten years. The Friendship Committee was a fairly new development, born out of some HR initiative aimed at keeping people happy in the office and encouraging camaraderie. And at first Jun had really liked it for the external activities that were organized. While they were an office of over 300 people, it had helped him to get to know people from other teams better. They’d gone to an escape room. They’d gone salsa dancing. They’d had an intense group spin class. 

And there were internal activities and perks too, but lately none of those seemed that great. Wednesday night wine and cheese (that Jun had eagerly and faithfully attended) had recently been changed to Thursdays, which clashed with his usual gym schedule. There were the lunchtime cooking contests every other month that he always lost, from curry to cookies to chanpuru. The one suggestion he’d made (more healthy snacks in the break rooms) had been accepted, but his recommended brands had been deemed “too pricey” and now the initiative was nothing more than calorie-laden sugar bomb granola bars that Sakurai apparently bought in bulk with his corporate card thanks to his Costco membership.

Really, everything had been downhill since Sakurai Sho had taken charge.

He’d been with the company a few years, and Jun had to work with him frequently. Jun’s team dealt with the hundreds of hospitals and clinics that purchased Reborn’s products. Each and every one of those clients had a contract, and Sakurai Sho was someone who drafted, edited, and updated them. Jun could only get so far with the client onboarding or renewal process before he had to loop in the legal team, and more often than not, it was Sakurai Sho jumping in. 

Asking Jun a zillion questions. Negotiating for days with client counsel over email or over lengthy phone calls that Jun had to sit through regarding this or that clause in a contract. Always using phrases like “action items” or “circle back.” Always opening an email to Jun with “Hello. It’s me, Sakurai” even though that much was obvious.

“Maybe he likes you,” his teammate Ninomiya liked to joke. Nino handled just as many clients as Jun did, but he had a more even split on his contracts between Sakurai and the other lawyers. Jun hadn’t run the official stats or anything, but Sakurai worked with him on two out of every three, maybe three out of every four. So given that apparent favoritism, Jun had been stupid enough to consider that maybe Sakurai really was into him. When he was lonely, Jun had even found himself wishing it was true.

Sakurai “I went to Keio, in case I haven’t mentioned this the last five hundred times we’ve spoken” Sho had come to Reborn from some fancy law firm. He’d probably made more money at the firm, Nino had figured, but the hours and culture at Reborn were better. Work-life balance and all that. He was good-looking in a clean-cut, well-bred, ‘helping old ladies cross the street’ way, not a heartthrob or anything. But the nice suits and watches he wore went a long way to luring the eye. 

Jun didn’t really have a set “type” or anything, but Sakurai’s perfect ass in his fancy in-house-counsel-salary-bought suits was a considerable draw. In the first months of knowing each other and working together, “Hello. It’s me, Sakurai” was always polite, smiling, friendly. He’d dropped by Jun’s work area to talk about soccer or music sometimes. In those early days, Nino had often caught Jun watching Sakurai walk away.

“Damn, Matsumoto, you’re drooling. What’s that phrase?” Nino would say, rolling sideways in his chair to Jun’s workstation beside him. “Hate to see him leave but love to watch him go?”

But then the Friendship Committee’s first leader, a woman in HR, had resigned from the company upon getting married. The person who took her spot had been Sakurai Sho, jumping into the role with his calculated enthusiasm. While Jun could be civil, his feelings toward Sakurai had been trending downward ever since. Between the granola bar debacle and the constant contest losses, Jun was sick of the guy’s disrespect. No matter how good his ass looked, everything involving Sakurai Sho now seemed irritating and fake to him.

His toothy smile.  
His too-loud guffawing laughter.  
His always audible pen clicking on conference calls.  
His pretentious “Sakurai Sho, esq.” email signature.

Maybe if they didn’t have to work together so much, Jun wouldn’t care. He was the type of person prone to overthinking, always had been, so it sometimes felt like Sakurai Sho secretly hated him. Or at the very least he got off on seeing Jun lose every single contest despite buttering him up and making him think he was a top contender.

Today his curry had been praised. “Amazing, Matsumoto-kun!”

In another contest, Sakurai had eaten three of his gluten-free vanilla bean cupcakes. “Outstanding, Matsumoto-kun!” he’d exclaimed with his mouth full.

The worst was when Jun had found out that Sakurai hated coriander and had deliberately excluded it from his guacamole in the Cinco de Mayo Dip contest. He’d seen the look of surprise in Sakurai’s eyes after that first tortilla chip bite, saw the gratitude in his face after the other coriandered guacamoles he’d tried. “Matsumoto-kun, this is really something!” And then he’d turned around and handed the trophy to Aiba Masaki’s mabo-fied mango pineapple salsa anyway.

So as Jun lugged his healthy curry back to his workstation, eased the heavy pot into the insulated bag he’d used to carry it to work with him, he decided that he was done. No more recipe searching until 3 in the morning. No more ingredient hunting at specialty shops. And no more attempts to please the fickle taste buds of “Hello. It’s me, Sakurai.”

He was done with the Friendship Committee. For good.

——

From: SAKURAI Sho (TKO) <“sakurai.sho@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: TKO-Branch-All <“TKO-list@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Friday December 13, 2019 3:00 PM  
Subject: Friendship Committee Email Blast - February Contest Announcement  
Attachment: apple-delight.docx

Hello Tokyo Branch!

Thank you for your participation in the December Curry Contest, and congratulations again to Oshima Yuko-san for her award-winning contribution, Apple Delight Curry. You will find her recipe attached. Maybe it will come in handy over New Years?

Our February lunchtime cooking contest theme has been decided! We’ll be holding our event as usual in the 12th floor Meeting Room A-B-C at 12:00 PM, Friday February 14th, 2020. That’s right, Valentine’s Day happens to coincide next year with our usual contest day. While we know there may be the exchanging of tomo choco and giri choco around the office, we hope all of you will join us for the VALENTINE’S DAY CHEESECAKE CONTEST!

Instructions and sign-up information have now been posted on the Friendship Committee’s intranet page. The sign-up deadline is Friday February 7th so we can ensure that enough tables and serving utensils will be available. We’re looking forward to everyone’s delicious submissions! Not a baker? No problem! We hope you’ll come join us and sample everything right along with the committee judges. Come hungry!

Please reach out to me or any Friendship Committee member with your questions. See you there!

Sincerely,  
Sho S.

-

SAKURAI Sho, Esq.  
Senior Corporate Counsel  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

——

From: SAKURAI Sho (TKO) <“sakurai.sho@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: MATSUMOTO Jun (TKO) <“matsumoto.jun@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Tuesday January 6, 2020 9:26 AM  
Subject: Re: Haruyama Surgical Hospital

Hello. It’s me, Sakurai. Happy New Year to you, Matsumoto-kun. I look forward to working with you this 2020. Picking up where we left off on Haruyama before the New Year. I’ve reviewed the co-signed FY 2016-2020 contract you kindly sent along. This may be a bit of a nuisance, but I think it’s best we retool it entirely to bring it in line with current departmental protocol. Some of the text is needlessly convoluted, and I’d rather just scratch most of it. Not sure what the team was thinking when they signed off on it back in 2015, but of course, that was before my time here. I’m sure Haruyama will appreciate our efforts.

Heads up on this as well - management is looking to reduce the number of five-year contracts where we can moving forward. As you’d expect, that’s a financial decision on their part. All we’ve been told is that it could be “troublesome” if we lock clients in for five with the current market fluctuations, so I’ve been asked to try and knock people down to 3 at max on most renewals we finalize this year. 

I think an email is going out to your team this week about it so everyone’s on the same page with forthcoming renewals, but since we already started on Haruyama before the New Year, I imagine you’ve already floated five-year terms to them. Happy to jump on a call with Suga-san over there so you don’t come across as the bad guy. I’m fine with them yelling at me instead. That’s what I’m here for.

Unrelated, but I haven’t seen your signup for the Valentine’s Cheesecake contest come through yet. I hope we can count on your participation!

Sincerely,  
Sho S.

-

SAKURAI Sho, Esq.  
Senior Corporate Counsel  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

——

From: SAKURAI Sho (TKO) <“sakurai.sho@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: MATSUMOTO Jun (TKO) <“matsumoto.jun@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Thursday January 16, 2020 11:14 AM  
Subject: Re: Saitama Kyodo Hospital  
Attachment: SK Draft FY 2021-2023

Hello. It’s me, Sakurai. Attached you will find my revisions for Saitama Kyodo - in particular, please note redlining on page 3. I don’t expect any headaches on it, but if Saito-san or Murakami-san have any questions, forward my way. 

Just wanted to circle back with you about February cheesecake. Did we miss your sign-up?

Sincerely,  
Sho S.

-

SAKURAI Sho, Esq.  
Senior Corporate Counsel  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

——

From: SAKURAI Sho (TKO) <“sakurai.sho@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: MATSUMOTO Jun (TKO) <“matsumoto.jun@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Monday January 27, 2020 4:23 PM  
Subject: February?

Hello. It’s me, Sakurai. Matsumoto-kun, I know our call with Ayano Rehab Center went long Friday so I didn’t get to ask. Will you be participating in the cheesecake contest? I’m looking forward to trying your entry.

Sincerely,  
Sho S.

-

SAKURAI Sho, Esq.  
Senior Corporate Counsel  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

— — 

He heard Nino snort beside him. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

Jun looked away from his inbox, scowling. “Mind your business.”

In his typical fashion, Nino chose to do the opposite, sliding over in his chair. “Ah,” he said, seeing the newly arrived email from Sakurai on Jun’s monitor. Jun’s loud sigh in response to the email had obviously alerted him in the first place. “You still haven’t told him you’re not entering the contest?”

“Not directly.” Jun pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, he won’t take a hint.”

“Do you want me to just tell him? Why are you being so weird about this?” Nino grinned. “Ah, you still have a thing for him?”

“I’m not the one being weird,” Jun protested, ignoring Nino’s other question. Even if it was slightly true. But only slightly! “ _He’s_ the weird one.”

Sakurai kept asking in his emails. He kept making comments on phone calls. The contest, the contest, when are you entering the contest. Jun, not wanting to jeopardize their relationship (their working relationship, that is) with a flat out denial, had ignored the topic entirely in their emails. He responded only to Sakurai’s questions related to their actual work. And on phone calls he’d done his best to deflect, saying that he hadn’t had time to think about it yet. 

Eventually he was going to have to be decisive, but Jun had to admit that he liked the effect his strategy was having. Sakurai was mildly obsessed with getting an answer from Jun about the stupid cheesecake contest, and Jun wanted to see what it would take for that too-polite manner of his to crumble. Again and again Sakurai had given Jun hope, only to crush him. It was kind of fun to see Sakurai squirm about something for once.

“You’re both weird,” Nino decided.

For now, Jun sent the email straight to the trash. He had other work to get done this afternoon. “Yeah, I know.”

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh what?” Jun snapped, only to see exactly where Nino was looking. Shit. Had there been a read receipt on that god damned email!? He’d been so annoyed that he hadn’t paid close enough attention.

There he was. Coming down the aisle, heading straight for them, although pausing a few times to bask in the greetings of his adoring fans in the client management department. A well-fitted gray suit. An innocuous blue tie. That blinding smile.

“Good luck, buddy,” Nino muttered, sliding back to his own workstation. 

“Matsumoto-kun!” Sakurai declared like some TV announcer, coming to a stop beside Jun and doing that “hands on hips” power pose he was so fond of. “Hey there, Nino!”

“Hey Sho-chan,” Nino said. “Excuse me a minute, I’m just gonna go refill my water bottle.”

Jun fumed as Nino executed a well-timed escape, offering Jun not one iota of support. He tried to calm down, but there was an intensity in Sakurai’s face that implied that Jun wouldn’t be able to dodge him much longer. 

“Hello, Sho-san.” He leaned back in his chair a little, looking up, trying to ignore the hopeful little quirk of Sakurai’s perfect mouth. “Is this about the DocuSign problem that Sunrise was having? Last I heard, their IT department was still investigating…”

“No, not Sunrise,” Sakurai said, and Jun could tell that the easygoing tone of his voice was more forced than usual. “Sorry to interrupt your work with something like this, but did you get my last email?”

Jun stared at him.

Sakurai’s eye twitched a little. “I…I just sent it a few minutes ago…ahh…maybe you already have it in your inbox and…”

He really didn’t want to do this here. He really didn’t. But he had to tell him. “I saw it.”

“Good!” Sakurai said. An awkward silence followed. “So…um…so the contest…the cheesecake contest. You know, the February cheesecake contest…”

“I have a few deadlines to meet before close of business today, Sho-san.”

“Right, right, I’m sure you do. But I was wondering…”

“And once I hear back from Sunrise, you will be the first to…”

And then the dam burst.

“I really want to see your take on cheesecake, Matsumoto-kun,” Sakurai blurted out, eyes round and shimmering. “Of course, I selfishly want as many people to participate as possible, hahaha, it’s the benefit of being one of the judges, you see. But, uh, cheesecake is, uh, well, you see it’s my favorite dessert. I hadn’t eaten it a lot as a kid, but when I was studying for exams at Keio, I started buying it all the time and I got so addicted. Couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Anyway, I don’t usually choose the contest theme myself, we do it as a committee, always a committee decision, of course, but I kind of threw it out there and the committee was all for it, so maybe I’m just…hahahaha, you know, I guess I’m really looking forward to this one? That’s weird right, haha. Hahaha. And I thought since you’ve entered all the other dessert-themed contests that you’d have signed up by now. Usually we hear back from you within the first week of the contest announcement, not that I’ve been tracking you or anything, no no no, I’m only saying from what I recall. I mean, usually you’re one of the first and I always look forward to seeing the risks you take because you just…you know, you’re very talented and maybe it’s rude of me to…”

Jun held up a hand before Sakurai ran out of breath. He’d never heard the professional, polished Sakurai Sho sound like this before. Ever. And it rattled him.

“Sho-san.”

 _I always look forward to seeing the risks you take._

_You’re very talented._

Bullshit, Jun thought. He’s still going to give you that fake ass smile and then turn around and vote for someone else.

“Ah…yes?”

“I’m not doing this one. I don’t have time.”

“Oh?”

“Look. I hope you’ll get a lot of participants.”

Sakurai’s eye did that weird twitch again. “But Matsumoto-kun…it wouldn’t be the same without you…”

Don’t let him win, his brain shouted at him. Don’t give him the chance to humiliate you again! Don’t give in to him!

“I’m not signing up.”

“Your stuff is so good, I know I speak for a lot of people when I tell you that…”

“Sho-san…”

“I’m just saying it would be a shame if a participant of your caliber sat this one out…”

“You’re clogging up my inbox and wasting my time. I said no, damn it! Can you please stop bugging me about this stupid contest?”

In the dead silence that followed, Jun’s eyes darted around the room. Nobody was typing…everyone had been listening in, probably had been since Sakurai had started rambling on without stopping. Eventually a phone rang at someone else’s workstation, making everyone jump, Jun and Sakurai included. Everyone got back to work as reality set in.

Oh god, Jun thought, what have I done?

“Sorry, I’m going to see if Nino, uh, needs help with the water. He’s uh…” Sakurai was looking at Jun like Jun had slapped him in the face. Like Jun had straight up dissed Keio University. Like Jun had broken his heart. “He’s been gone a while…”

He stumbled a little as he got out of his chair, fleeing like a coward as the dirty looks of his colleagues followed him. As expected, Nino was by the water cooler in the break room, sipping from his bottle with a devilish grin. He’d likely watched the whole debacle from the doorway. Jun reached for the snack basket beside the coffee machine, hastily unwrapping one of the Costco-bought granola bars. He took a giant bite, chomping the calories shamefully. He looked over, meeting his colleague’s gaze.

“Wow,” Nino said.

Wow indeed.

— —

From: SAKURAI Sho (TKO) <“sakurai.sho@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: MATSUMOTO Jun (TKO) <“matsumoto.jun@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Thursday February 6, 2020 10:02 AM  
Subject: Re: Nishi-Fukushima Women’s Clinic

Will get revisions to you by end of day. 

S.

-

SAKURAI Sho, Esq.  
Senior Corporate Counsel  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

—— 

Jun finally found time to duck into an empty meeting room, calling his sister back. She answered without any sort of greeting, already sounding annoyed with him. Typical. “I’ve been trying to call you all day!”

He scowled. “I have a job, Nee-san. I can’t be taking personal calls all the time.”

“Jun-Jun, it’s an emergency.”

He doubted that. She’d have called him on his work line if it really was. “Oh really? Then shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”

“It’s a different sort of emergency,” she continued. “Rika’s judo club needs new uniforms. We’re fundraising again, but nobody is buying anything at Satoshi’s workplace. All the club members are expected to sell 50,000 yen worth of stuff, and we’re way short. The deadline is next week, and I need your help.”

What kind of judo uniforms were they trying to buy?! What the hell were they made of? Ah, but this was just like Miyu. She’d enrolled her kid in fancy lessons at some fancy place even though they couldn’t really afford it, just like the school they’d stuck her in. Of course Jun wanted nothing but the best for his niece, but there was a difference between “the best” within a strict family budget and Miyu’s concept of “the best.” He loved his sister, but she was boneheaded about money. Well, not like Jun could talk, given some of the choices he made, but did a six year old need a 50,000 yen judo uniform?

Either way, his sister’s “my-own-pace” husband Satoshi was probably lying. It was surely embarrassing to bring around the little fundraising flyers and order form, to try and con his uninterested co-workers at the factory into buying shit they didn’t need with money they didn’t really have. Satoshi was likely trying to avoid a conflict down the line. If a co-worker helped with Rika’s fundraiser now, then surely Satoshi would be expected to buy something on behalf of that co-worker’s kid another time. The same money would change hands back and forth in an endless cycle. So it was most likely that he hadn’t even bothered to try at work.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, even though he knew precisely what she wanted.

“Could you see if any of your folks at your workplace will bite? We just need to hit our goal and then those wealthy twits will stop whispering every time they see me. I don’t want Rika to be bullied.”

Then put her in a normal judo club with normal kids, not a club full of doctors’ and politicians’ snotty offspring. Jun decided not to say that, instead opening himself up to further humiliation. “Okay, I’ll ask around here. How much more to reach your goal?”

Miyu went quiet.

“Nee-san…”

“42,000 and we need it by next Monday.”

Today was Thursday. He considered throwing his phone against the wall, but since it was the newest iPhone model and his last phone had still worked perfectly when he bought it, he decided against a hypocritical scolding. “I’ll drop by after work and get the order form, alright? What is she selling?”

“Mug cakes.”

“Mug cakes?”

“It’s a little packet of chocolate powder. You dump it into a mug, add milk or water. Microwave it a little bit and voila, a cake.”

He sighed. “I have to sell 42,000 yen worth of mug cake packets by Monday?”

“Thank you, Jun-Jun!”

And then she hung up on him.

There was the usual chilliness, the usual staring when he emerged from the conference room, heading back to his workstation. Everyone thought he was the worst now, although they wouldn’t say it to his face. _Did you see Matsumoto last week? Did you see the way he spoke to Sho-san? Everybody likes Sho-san, why would he be so rude to Sho-san? Besides, he’d have probably brought some gluten-free, dairy-free, flavor-free cheesecake to the contest. Good riddance!_

Well, Jun only assumed that last bit, though Nino implied that some “comments” had been made about his previous contest submissions. Word of Jun’s little outburst had spread, Nino reported. Aiba in marketing was more than willing to go to bat for Jun and try shifting the narrative among his team. Busy week, not enough sleep, Matsumoto’s actually a really nice guy. Though he appreciated the gesture, Jun declined, hoping this would all just blow over eventually. To save face, Jun had already put in for a vacation day next Friday, the day of the contest. It was probably a good idea to be away from the office entirely on cheesecake day.

But the current icing out among the Reborn Medical staff was not going to make it easy for Jun to sell 42,000 yen worth of mug cakes by Monday. He sat down in his chair in a huff, seeing Nino with his headset on, in a call with some client or another.

If it came down to it, he’d just lie to Miyu, buy up the entire stock of mug cake packets himself. His bank account could probably take the hit, although he’d prefer not to. But then what would he even do with all of it? He rolled his eyes, putting his newest problem aside and jumping back into work. He’d worry about it tomorrow.

The promised Nishi-Fukushima Women’s Clinic revisions had just come through from Sakurai. Nothing more than a simple reply of “Here you go. S.” with the attachment, It stung a little, the curt manner Sakurai now used when communicating with him. And maybe, just maybe, Jun missed the “Hello. It’s me, Sakurai” openers too, as silly as they were.

You dislike him, Jun told himself. What happened to you disliking him and his smug face?

He sighed, knowing the truth full well. Nino had certainly been right all along.

Jun liked Sakurai Sho. He’d liked Sakurai Sho all this time. And he just wanted Sakurai Sho to think he was a winner.

— —

It was after 6:00 PM on Monday when Jun walked through the break room doorway, approaching the center table with dread infusing his entire being. He could see even from here that there’d been no progress. He really was going to have to buy up all the mug cake stock himself.

He’d made excuses to go to the break room throughout the day, refilling his water bottle and checking up on the situation. He’d set out the little pamphlet and order form with care, setting down three pens. He’d put down his handwritten note: “My niece Rika is raising money for her judo club. Love chocolate? Check it out! Thanks! Jun.” Nino and Aiba had told him to include a picture of Rika, claiming he’d surely rack up sales based on her adorable face alone. But Jun had declined. It would have made him look like even more of a jerk. “That Matsumoto thinks he can manipulate us? Ha!”

Nearly everyone in the office had gone home for the night. There’d be no additional sales. Reaching the table, he saw that only one of the pens was left. Apparently his colleagues were still pissed off about his cheesecake outburst and really were petty enough to take his pens on purpose. 

He picked up the order form, frowning. He’d had 210 packets to sell at 200 yen a piece. He’d sold 10 on Friday - 5 each to Nino and Aiba, who he supposed had only done so out of pity. Today he’d sold zero.

And though Jun was the one doing _her_ a favor, Miyu had been anxiously blowing up his phone all day with texts and calls, inquiring about his progress. “Jun-Jun! Update?” “Jun-Jun, anything to report?” “Jun-Jun, Rika will cry if we don’t hear from you soon!” Even Satoshi had been bullied into checking up on him when Jun had made no effort to respond to his sister’s harassment.

“Jun-kun. Sorry,” he’d texted right after Jun had finished lunch. “Miyu wants me to ask about the cakes.”

He shut his eyes, setting the form back on the table and leaning heavily against it. What the hell was he going to do with 200 mug cake packets?

“Matsumoto-kun?”

He jumped, nearly knocking into the table. He turned, spying someone unexpected in the doorway. His colleague was putting in a late night. Tired eyes, his tie a little loosened, no suit jacket, and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Oh no…he looked even better when he wasn’t 100% put-together…

“Sho-san.”

Sakurai approached slowly, expression unreadable. “Thanks for your hard work today.”

“Likewise.”

It was the first they’d spoken in person since Jun had declared his hostile anti-cheesecake contest agenda. Sakurai picked up the pamphlet. “Matsumoto-kun, I…I was wondering something…”

“Yeah?” he replied nervously, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture.

“I noticed your fundraiser when I’ve come in here the past few days.” Sakurai looked him in the face, eyes equally nervous. “Did you…did you sell out already?”

“Huh?” He blinked, gathering his wits again. “I mean, no. No…I…I still have a lot left.”

Sakurai reddened a little, looking down at the pamphlet instead, flipping absent-mindedly through the pages for a few moments. The longer the silence went on, the more awkward the tension in the air.

“It’s for her uniform,” Jun continued, if only because it was too damn quiet. “For my niece. Her judo uniform. My sister enrolled her in a club that’s um…well, lessons are a little expensive, but she seems to like it. Rika, I mean…she’ll probably be able to beat the crap out of me someday, even if she’s just six…”

“You have a picture?”

“Hm?”

“Of Rika-chan?”

“You want to see a picture of my niece?”

Sakurai set down the pamphlet, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, you’ve never mentioned her before…I…never mind, that’s personal, I shouldn’t…”

“No, it’s alright. She’s cute.” He reached into his pocket, seeing 14 unread messages from his sister. He ignored them, going to his camera roll. He found one of her he’d taken a few months back. He’d taken her to Disneyland, had taken a picture of her with Mickey.

“Awwwwwww,” Sakurai cooed, stepping a little closer to look at the photo on the screen. “That little angel does judo?”

“Yep.”

“Aww.”

Jun lowered his phone, shoving it back in his pocket. How soon would that stupid fancy pants judo club kick her out and make her cry if Miyu and Satoshi didn’t pay the mug cake ransom? “Sho-san…I need to go. Um, the money from the orders is due tonight so I have to drop it off at my sister’s house…”

“But you said you’ve got a lot left?”

He nodded. 

“I’ve um…I’ve been meaning to ask you all day but I didn’t want to interrupt while you were working…” Sho stepped away from him again, still not quite able to meet his eyes. “How many do you have?”

“Two hundred.”

Sakurai’s face lit up. “That’s perfect!”

“What?”

“I’ll take them!” Sakurai reached out, grabbing Jun by the sleeve. “Come on. Follow me. Follow me, I’ve got cash in my office!”

“Wait…what?”

In his excitement, Sakurai dragged him along, out of the break room and to the stairway. In his equal excitement, Jun let him. Sakurai pushed the door open, racing up the stairs, and Jun could only run after him. The strange chase ended in Sakurai’s office on the next floor up. While his fancy Keio degrees were framed and hung on the wall with care beside an obnoxiously large Keio Unicorns poster, the rest of his office was a mess, his desk covered in stacks of printed-out contracts, dozens of neon-colored sticky notes attached here and there. Sakurai was in his chair, unlocking a desk drawer and pulling out a wallet. 

He cracked the wallet open and looked up at Jun with a smile. “How much for two hundred?”

Jun stood there in the middle of Sakurai’s office, unsure what he was hearing. 

Sakurai Sho, who already voted against him in every contest. Sakurai Sho, who had more reason than ever to dislike him was…buying up the entire stock of mug cakes!? How much mug cake could one attorney need!? God, did it matter? Jun had to close the sale, just as he did when he started the renewal process with a client.

“You’re serious?”

“I’m serious,” came the reply. “It’s a little strange, but over the last few days some people have left complaints in the Friendship Committee’s Anonymous Feedback box about the granola bars being too healthy. I…I don’t really understand it.”

Oh. But Jun did. _Everybody_ knew Matsumoto Jun had asked for the granola bars. These people were so childish…

“Sho-san, if you buy the full remaining stock of 200 packets that will be 40,000 even.” He paused. “Are you really sure?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with the granola bars,” Sakurai sighed, “they always disappear so fast. I have to go to Costco every weekend now. But I’d be remiss in my leadership duties if I didn’t take the anonymous feedback claims seriously. So if we can offer both the granola bars and the mug cake packets in the break rooms, we can strike a happy balance between healthy and not-so-healthy snacks, don’t you think?”

They will know exactly who you bought the mug cakes from, Jun thought, but that wouldn’t be his problem. Even if people threw them in the trash cursing Jun’s name it wouldn’t be his problem. With this, Jun would be Rika’s hero without having to spend any of his own money. And Miyu and Satoshi would be in his debt. Not that they’d ever admit it, but they’d _know_ they were and that was enough for an asshole like Jun.

“Sold. They’re yours.”

Sakurai pulled the bills from his wallet, holding them out with a pleased look in his eyes. “Thanks. The timing on this is too perfect, I’m so glad I was able to catch you before you left for the day. How soon will they be delivered?”

He took the cash, shoving it in his pocket. “Probably a week or so, but I’ll talk to my sister tonight. I’m heading over there once I shut down for the night. I’ll email you when I know more.”

“Wonderful.”

“Thank you for helping my family. I’ll talk to you again soon. Have a good night.”

“Have a good night, Matsumoto-kun. Thank you for your help.”

Money exchange complete, Jun turned to leave. 

He made it three steps before the guilt flared up too strongly to be ignored. He looked back, saw Sakurai was watching him go with a rather sad little smile. Sakurai Sho, who’d just saved Jun from having to find a home for 200 unwanted mug cake packets. Sakurai Sho, who had always been so nice to him, even if Jun had convinced himself otherwise because of a meaningless contest.

“Sho-san…”

“Yeah?”

“I…I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you the other day.”

Sakurai’s face turned a little pink. “No…no, there’s nothing to apologize for…I was being selfish, trying to push you to enter the contest when you don’t have time…this is my fault…”

“I’m a sore loser, I always have been,” he blurted out, voice shaking. “I just didn’t want to lose again. I couldn’t bear to lose again. So that’s why I’m not doing it. That’s the only reason, and I know it’s ridiculous. I have the time for it. Hell, I’ve always made the time for it because I enjoy making things. I enjoy sharing what I cook with other people. I can’t tell you how much time I’ve spent trying to make the most perfect thing for every contest. I even had this rare wild ginseng imported from Korea to use in my broth the one time we had the Wonderful Winter Comforting Soup contest. It cost me half a paycheck to do that, to buy fucking ginseng from a shady ass website I had to put through Google Translate, but I always play to win, and I thought that was really going to differentiate me from the rest. And I lost to someone who probably used store-bought corn potage, added some red pepper flakes, and called it a day. But you know, I…I can’t please everyone, at least in terms of the taste buds here at Reborn Medical, so I…I just need to stop.”

Sakurai got out of his chair, looking at him, lips parting in surprise. “Matsumoto-kun…?”

“I’m sorry, Sho-san. You said cheesecake is your favorite. I really do hope you get a lot of entries.” He turned, started to walk away. “I wasn’t lying about that part. Anyhow. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait.” Sakurai’s voice was wobbly. “Please.”

Jun couldn’t bear to turn around this time. But he did stop.

“Everything you make is incredible. I’m absolutely serious. And I’m sorry that I get overruled every time. I…I always pick yours. Always.” Sakurai cleared his throat. “There’s five of us judges, you know. And Matsumoto-kun, this is just between you and me, but the others have the dullest opinions I’ve ever heard. They want something that tastes like what they can make at home themselves. Something familiar. They don’t like ingredients and flavors they’re unfamiliar with. They don’t like something outside the box. They probably think a Michelin star is part of some constellation.”

That was when Jun’s jaw dropped. Sakurai Sho was not the man he thought he was. They were more alike than Jun had even considered.

“They almost quit en masse on me when I overruled them and gave the trophy to Aiba-kun’s salsa that one time, so I’ve just…given up. I hold my tongue. For group harmony, you know. It’s the Friendship Committee, not the ‘Sho loves Matsumoto Jun’s cooking and you all should too’ committee. So when you say that you can’t please everyone at Reborn Medical…well, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean what you make isn’t good.” Sakurai was a little quieter then after his outburst. “I love what you make. And I’m sorry nobody else appreciates it.” 

Oh god, Jun realized, feeling like he might just collapse to the floor under the weight of Sakurai Sho’s effusive praise. If he didn’t leave this office right the fuck now, he was going to turn around, knock Sakurai against the wall and kiss him so hard those Keio degrees were going to come crashing down.

“Thank you,” he managed to squeak out instead. “It means a lot to me to hear that.”

He walked to the stairwell door, feeling Sakurai’s eyes burning a hole through him the whole way. And as he took the train out to his sister’s house, Sakurai’s money in his pocket, Jun had only one thought on his mind.

Well, okay, he had a few thoughts.

But one in particular.

He had to make the world’s greatest cheesecake. And his deadline - Valentine’s Day - was closing in quick.

—— 

From: NINOMIYA Kazunari (TKO) <“ninomiya.kazunari@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: AIBA Masaki (TKO) <“aiba.masaki@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Tuesday February 11, 2020 11:16 AM  
Subject: re: re: re: re: Operation Charlotte Pudding — TOP SECRET, EYES ONLY

You can stand down. Mission complete.

-

NINOMIYA Kazunari  
Client Relationship Manager  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

——

From: AIBA Masaki (TKO) <“aiba.masaki@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: NINOMIYA Kazunari (TKO) <“ninomiya.kazunari@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Tuesday February 11, 2020 11:28 AM  
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: Operation Charlotte Pudding — TOP SECRET, EYES ONLY

How do you know? I have more granola complaints ready to go if needed - getting really good at masking my handwriting 

-

AIBA Masaki  
Marketing Analyst  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

——

From: NINOMIYA Kazunari (TKO) <“ninomiya.kazunari@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: AIBA Masaki (TKO) <“aiba.masaki@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Tuesday February 11, 2020 11:31 AM  
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: re: Operation Charlotte Pudding — TOP SECRET, EYES ONLY

Shred them, the operation is over. And don’t you dare question my intel again!!!

Jun-kun just went to the bathroom. He minimized his browser but didn’t lock the computer. Had a whole bunch of tabs open, Chrome incognito mode, all cheesecake recipes. 

-

NINOMIYA Kazunari  
Client Relationship Manager  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

——

From: AIBA Masaki (TKO) <“aiba.masaki@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: NINOMIYA Kazunari (TKO) <“ninomiya.kazunari@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Tuesday February 11, 2020 11:37 AM  
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: Operation Charlotte Pudding — TOP SECRET, EYES ONLY

LOL they’re both so weird. It’s cute!

-

AIBA Masaki  
Marketing Analyst  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002

——

Just because he’d never really made a cheesecake before didn’t mean he wouldn’t succeed. Matsumoto Jun was a man who settled for nothing less than perfection, and perfection he would find…hopefully within the next 30 minutes or so.

He’d spent all of Tuesday work hours scouring the internet for recipes, narrowing to five.  
He’d spent all of Tuesday post-work hours watching cheesecake-themed videos similar to said recipes on YouTube.  
He’d spent all of Wednesday after work scouring Tokyo for the ingredients and getting his kitchen ready.  
He’d left work at 5:15 PM on Thursday, hurrying home and getting to work on his five cheesecakes.

Sleep? Sleep was for the weak.

Now it was Friday. Valentine’s Day. Just after 4:00 PM. And he needed his brother-in-law to make a choice already.

Miyu hadn’t expected Jun to call in a favor so quickly after the mug cake incident, but call it in he had on Wednesday, knowing that he couldn’t just rely on his own palate with something so vitally important. Satoshi was always using the pocket money Miyu allotted him from the household budget to indulge his two hobbies: fishing and eating sweets. There was nobody Jun trusted more than himself when it came to desserts, but Satoshi and his sweet tooth were a close second place.

“Nee-san,” Jun had said, voice low and ominous, “you will send Satoshi to me as soon as his shift is over on Friday. Tell him he can’t eat lunch first. And tell him it’s important.”

And so today Satoshi was Jun’s taster, and Jun had impressed upon him the need to be absolutely certain in his decision. Only the strongest of the five cheesecakes would survive. If Jun left his apartment by 4:40, 4:50 at the latest, he could make it to the office by 6:15 even in the early evening rush. Satoshi had been here for over an hour, had already eaten two thin slices of each option.

The plain cheesecake with a hint of vanilla and lemon, topped with some macerated berries.  
The chocolate souffle-style with a splash of cherry liqueur.  
The no-bake peach option with a delicate white wine peach compote and raspberry jelly.  
The baked triple chocolate with the pulverized Oreo cookie crust.  
And finally the no-bake matcha option with the gourmet white chocolate and award-winning small-batch matcha from a specialty shop outside Kyoto, sold in only two locations in all of Tokyo.

(Admittedly, Jun couldn’t help himself with the last one.)

By now Satoshi looked uncomfortably full, which made sense, but Jun wasn’t feeling that sorry for him. He would get to take most of the losing cheesecake home to eat again later in thanks for offering his opinions.

“They’re all good,” Satoshi mumbled in that usual mumble of his.

Jun narrowed his eyes. “So you’ve said. But you have to pick one.”

“Well, what if what I like isn’t what this guy likes?” Despite himself, Satoshi dug his fork back into the peach one and had another bite. “This one’s out.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, bit jiggly for Valentine’s Day.”

“A bit _jiggly_?”

Satoshi gestured with his fork at the gelatin topper, the bits of fruit suspended within. “It’s great, you know, but it doesn’t say Valentine’s Day love confession.”

“It’s not a love confession!” Jun interjected.

At that, Satoshi raised an eyebrow.

Jun looked away, taking another bite of the matcha. It was outstanding. “Okay. Maybe it is, in a way. But he already confessed to me. I’m just responding.”

“He confessed to you?”

“Well…sort of,” Jun admitted, blushing a little. “He couldn’t stop yapping about how much he loves what I cook. And it wasn’t like the way you or Miyu ever comment on my food. He was…hmm…”

“More gay about it?”

Jun snatched the peach cheesecake plate away from him, replacing it with the triple chocolate. “I’m leaving this apartment with one winner. Eat this again.”

Slowly but surely, Satoshi took a bite of every cheesecake one more time, offering his arbitrary explanations for removing contenders from the battle. The peach was too jiggly. The matcha was a little too bitter to be the best romantic gesture. The triple chocolate was too intense and Jun might come across as “much more horny than sincere.”

“This guy is the reason your daughter is still in bratty rich kid judo!” Jun snapped at him. “Now decide! Plain or chocolate souffle?”

“Triple chocolate is too much, but the souffle version is perfect.”

“And the plain?”

“Is wonderful. But Valentine’s Day means chocolate, doesn’t it?” Satoshi smiled at him. “This is it. This is the one. Go get him.”

——

The box was a little cumbersome, what with his cake plate and the 200 mug cake packets Satoshi had brought over arranged within. The subway was packed, and he had it settled between his legs. Fortunately he’d always had a rather intense face, and despite the late afternoon crowds, nobody stood close enough to him to put the box in peril.

He exited at Onarimon, heading up the street to the office. He’d been in touch with Nino off and on throughout the day. The contest had been a success, well-attended. Some woman in sales had won, some sort of salted caramel drizzle on top of a plain cheesecake. Nino hadn’t cared for it.

“What did Sho-san think about it?”

Nino had laughed, delighting in his suffering as always. “Ask him yourself.”

Most people were heading toward the station Jun had left, and he hoped that anyone from Reborn was heading out to enjoy their weekend instead of stopping to wonder if that was the infamous Matsumoto Jun daring to show his face on this, the day of the cheesecake contest he’d so rudely dismissed. He balanced the box carefully, swiping his ID badge to let himself into the elevator bank.

Only a few stragglers were still around, though the ones he passed were starting to pack up. But as he made it around the corner to the row of offices that lined the south wall, he could see light streaming from the office he expected. Nino had gone upstairs to peek around 5:30 before heading out himself, letting Jun know that “the jacket was off,” which meant he’d probably be there a while. Jun could hear some rather spirited typing, the faintest sound of what might have been X Japan.

He approached the doorway nervously. Nino had been right. The jacket was off. The sleeves were rolled up. Sho was enthusiastically mouthing the words to whatever song he was listening to. (After making five cheesecakes to win him over, Jun decided it was okay to think of him as ‘Sho’ instead of just ‘Sakurai’ now).

Jun lightly tapped on the box in his arms. “Sho-san?”

“Matsumoto-kun!” Sho called out, moving his mouse and silencing his music. “What are you doing here? I thought you were out of the office today?”

“I was. But I brought your mug cakes.”

Sho got out of his seat, grinning from ear to ear. Given Jun’s considerable preoccupation with cheesecake that week, they hadn’t spoken in person since Monday night. Just emails and all of those work-related, no time for anything more. 

“You didn’t have to come all the way here on your day off,” Sho said, taking the box from him and walking it over to try and find room for it on his desk. Failing that, he set it down in one of his guest chairs. Jun stayed in the doorway, arms crossed with worry that he was going a step too far. Sho loved his cooking, that much was obvious. But Jun, prone to overthinking, had grown a bit anxious that maybe that’s all it was. That he’d misread the vibe between them…

“Oh!”

He looked up just as Sho was lifting the cake plate out of the box. He’d packed three slices of the chocolate souffle one with care. “I brought your mug cakes and uh, a little treat for you as well. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Sho set the plate down on a stack of contracts and removed the lid. Jun could have sworn that his bright brown eyes doubled in size, taking in the sight of said treat. “Matsumoto-kun…”

“I um…I thought it was best I skip the contest, you already know why. But you did say cheesecake was your favorite, and I figure most of the stuff you had to taste at lunch today was pretty sub-par or was from the Aiba Masaki Museum of Culinary Weirdness. So I thought I’d bring you something good. That is, if you’re not sick of eating cheesecake at this point…”

“Forks…I need a fork…”

Jun stepped forward, tugging off his coat and setting it over Sho’s other chair. “I got you, there’s a few in the box…”

He came close, standing beside Sho as they dug together through the mass of mug cake packets. For some reason, Miyu had dumped them all in the box individually, just to annoy him. His fingers and Sho’s met at the bottom of the box, finding one of the forks together.

He looked up, saw a nervous look in Sho’s face to match his own. Jun moved his hand away first, but Sho was bold, snatching it back and giving it a quick little squeeze. Jun cheered internally. No, he hadn’t misread the vibe at all.

“You made this for me? You came all this way to bring this for _me_?”

There was no point in lying about it. “Yeah.”

Sho nodded, walking over to the plate and eyeballing the three slices. His voice cracked a little when he spoke again. “What do we have here today, Chef?”

It was Sho’s usual line when he was coming by for a contest judging. He’d probably picked it up from some cooking show he’d seen. It usually got him a few chuckles, and Jun knew that he thrived on getting those chuckles. But Jun kept his in, just to be a tease.

“Today I have a chocolate souffle cheesecake made with two kinds of cocoa powder. The original recipe called for a bit of rum, but I’ve substituted with a cherry liqueur for a little added tartness. It’s made with a couverture chocolate, responsibly-sourced.”

Sho exhaled, clearly impressed. “You want to know something?”

“Hmm?”

“I overheard some folks talking earlier. We gave the trophy to Tanaka-san in sales, not sure if you heard about it…well, turns out she admitted to someone that she bought the cheesecake at a store this morning because she couldn’t get it to work out at home. Her sauce was the only thing she made herself…”

“You gonna take the trophy back?” Jun asked.

Sho shook his head. “No, it’s not worth the controversy.” He looked back at the cheesecake Jun had made. “I’m so glad you weren’t in the contest because I was outvoted four to one in favor of that salted caramel _lie_ , and passing you over again would have killed me. There were better contenders, but of course they all loved Tanaka-san’s, it probably came from a professional bakery that churns out dozens every day. I haven’t even tried this yet, and I already know it’s going to be next level…”

“I don’t know about that. This is honestly my first time making cheesecake,” he replied shyly, even though he’d already had two reviews (his own and Satoshi’s) to assure him it was going to knock Sho’s socks off.

But still, he held his breath as Sho’s fork gently slid through the chocolate, cutting himself a rather sizeable first bite. Sho’s eyes fluttered shut as soon as he put the fork in his mouth, a hot little moan emerging from him that forced Jun to lean against the desk for support. Jackpot.

Instead of taking a second bite, Sho set down the fork. Jun was confused for only a moment until Sho slowly walked toward the door, movements a bit stiff as he poked his head out into the hall. Looking left. Looking right. Then quietly pushing his office door closed, blocking out the office and any curious onlookers entirely. He stood there for a few moments, facing the door. Likely gathering courage.

“Matsumoto-kun,” he finally said in a hushed voice.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a completely inappropriate question?”

Jun’s heart leapt. This was it. This was for real. “Only if I can give you a completely inappropriate answer.”

Sho laughed softly, thumping his fist a little against the door before finally turning around. His eyes were dark, eager. There was the slightest smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth, but it was Jun’s efforts that had put it there.

“Your cheesecake is _amazing_.” He met Jun’s eyes. “Will you come over here so I can show you my appreciation?”

It took everything Jun had to stay exactly where he was for the moment, though he knew he was turning red from the intensely needy look in Sho’s face. Instead he leaned over to the cake plate, put the fork through the slice again. He lifted the fork, trying not to shake as he did so, but he kept his other hand below it in case disaster struck. “You’ve only had one bite, Sho-san. Are you sure it’s better than the store-bought one?”

“I’m s-sure.”

Jun started to slowly walk towards him, Sho’s gaze drifting between the forkful of temptation and Jun’s face. “You’re absolutely sure? I can’t accept your… _appreciation_ if you don’t have a little bit more first. One bite isn’t enough to form a real opinion.” 

With each step forward, Sho inched backward until he had his back to the door, nowhere to run. Jun came up to him, holding up the fork.

“We have to work together on this, you know,” Jun said softly. “If there’s something lacking in terms of flavor, texture, anything, I need you to tell me so I can make improvements. It’s just like with the contracts, isn’t it? If there’s something you need me to bring up with the client, you always tell me so clearly. If there’s changes you’ve made, you always tell me so clearly.”

He had the fork a few inches from Sho’s mouth now.

“So. Sho-san. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it even better next time.”

Sho’s breathing was a little shallow, eyes unable to focus. “Next time?”

“Maybe I’ll steer clear of the contests around here now that I know that only one opinion on my cooking and baking matters to me.” He took a breath. “Open up.”

Sho obeyed, letting Jun feed him the second bite. Jun held in a groan as Sho’s perfect, plump lips closed around the fork. The noise Sho made in response was downright obscene. He swallowed, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his thumb, moving the smudge of chocolate to his tongue.

“Matsumoto-kun…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you dare change anything. It’s perfect.”

Their noses bumped (“Ah! Sorry!”), their foreheads bumped (“Ah! Sorry!”), Sho’s head knocked back against the door (“Ah! Sorry!”), and Jun had to fling the fork out of the way before he accidentally stabbed one of them with it. But they eventually figured out the right approach, and Sho did his very best to show Jun his appreciation. Sho’s mouth was very appreciative. Sho’s tongue was very appreciative. And Sho’s hands on his ass were presumably appreciative as well. And when Sho eventually turned them, pushing Jun back against the office door with a surprising amount of strength, kissing his way up and down his neck, Jun knew this was a much better prize than any shitty Costco trophy he could display in his workstation.

Ultimately they had to come up for air.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” Sho whispered in his ear, nibbling on his earlobe.

“We shouldn’t be doing this at all,” Jun reminded him. “It’s company policy. Some attorney you are.”

Sho pulled back, breathing rough and hair already mussed from Jun’s aggressive yanking at it. “Okay then. Shall we go downstairs to HR and report ourselves?”

Jun smiled. “After you.”

——

Sho’s apartment wasn’t as messy as his office at Reborn was, although Jun hadn’t had much time to look around and confirm it for sure. He’d spent the better part of the last few hours looking at the ceiling or had his eyes closed. The shower had been very clean, at least.

They’d left the mug cake packets behind, but Sho had taken the cake plate and the forks as they made a hasty retreat from the office before the cleaning staff came in and caught them screwing around. It probably should have disgusted Jun that Sho was eating some of the cheesecake now, still naked and glistening with sweat, liable to get crumbs in the bedsheets. But he and that beautiful ass of his had certainly earned it.

Jun turned onto his side, fluffing the pillow a bit. He felt an odd sense of pride, seeing Sho’s eyes close with every blissful, chocolatey bite.

“Better than me?” he asked, a little huffy.

Sho opened his eyes, offered a grin. He pointed his fork at Jun. “I can like more than one thing.”

“I’m glad you didn’t pick something like sticky chicken wings for the Valentine’s contest.”

Sho snickered. “What, it wouldn’t be sexy to see me licking sauce off my fingers right now? Or licking it off of _you_? Sauce you made? I’d wear a bib if you asked…”

“Nope.”

“What if I’d picked Singapore chili crab?”

“Nope.”

“Something with a ton of garlic?” Jun rolled his eyes, turned onto his back again. “Squid ink paella? Oh! A nice cheese fondue!”

“Do you always talk this much after you fuck someone?”

Sho patted him on the head. “Only the ones I really like.”

He laughed. “What an honor.”

Eventually he heard Sho get up to bring the plate and fork to the kitchen sink. He came back to bed beside him, turned off the lamp. It wasn’t that late, but they were both exhausted. Jun especially so after four days of negligible sleep while he was in Best Cheesecake Creation Mode, followed almost immediately by three incredible rounds of “appreciation,” courtesy of the mouth and the dick attached to “Hello. It’s me, Sakurai.”

He was on the edge of sleep when he felt Sho’s hand slide around his wrist. “If you want, I can draft something up.”

“Hmm?”

“Since we’re breaking the company rules, we should probably be careful. If you want, I can draft something we can both sign. Conduct in the office vs. conduct outside the office. So that we’re both on the same page about…about what this is between us moving forward. You know, since we still have to work together pretty closely…”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?”

He laughed. He couldn’t believe he’d ever disliked this guy. “You are such a fucking lawyer. You want to sign a secret dating contract with me? What are the terms? If I don’t make you something delicious once a week, you’ll dump me?”

Sho’s fingers stroked his skin, gently teasing. “You come right out of the gate with once a week? That’s the sign of a poor negotiator. I’d have been fine with once a month…it’s a wonder we make any money from your clients, Matsumoto Jun.”

He turned over, finding Sho’s lips in the dark, still tasting chocolate when he kissed him hard. 

Exhaustion be damned. Jun was in the mood for a little more appreciation.

——

From: SAKURAI Sho (TKO) <“sakurai.sho@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
To: TKO-Branch-All <“TKO-list@rebornmed.co.jp”>  
Date: Monday February 17, 2020 12:47 PM  
Subject: Friendship Committee Email Blast - April Contest Announcement; Break Room Snacks

Hello Tokyo Branch!

Thank you for your participation in the Valentine’s Day Cheesecake Contest, and congratulations again to Tanaka Seiko-san for her award-winning contribution, Caramel Crave Cheesecake. You all made this the best Valentine’s Day ever!

Our April lunchtime cooking contest theme has been decided! We’ll be holding our event as usual in the 12th floor Meeting Room A-B-C at 12:00 PM, Friday April 17th, 2020. The theme will be shirasu for spring! You can make anything you like, so long as shirasu are incorporated into your dish in some way. Instructions and sign-up information have now been posted on the Friendship Committee’s intranet page. The sign-up deadline is Friday April 10th so we can ensure that enough tables and serving utensils will be available. We’re looking forward to everyone’s delicious submissions! 

And an update! Thanks to your feedback, we are offering a wider variety of snacks in our break rooms. We now have 2 kinds of granola bars - the Kirkland Signature variety pack is joined by a lower-sugar option - Nature’s Best Selection. For those looking for a treat, we now have chocolate mug cake packets from a brand called Muggy Musume. We hope you’ll enjoy the new snacks.

Please reach out to me or any Friendship Committee member with your questions. 

Sincerely,  
Sho S.

-

SAKURAI Sho, Esq.  
Senior Corporate Counsel  
Reborn Medicine KK  
2-5-1 Atago  
Minato City, Tokyo 105-0002


End file.
